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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Jul 29, 2015 17:37:55 GMT -5
Martin was a Night's Watch man. He showed a perfectly good recruiter's seal when asked, but he had boarded the ship alone, and was not inclined to discuss things 'oop north'. He had an easy smile, the reddish-brown locks of the Riverlands, and spoke in a soft lilting voice that suggested lazy afternoons in the countryside somewhere. He was not unattractive, with all his teeth still intact and pearly, but there was something harsh in the otherwise genial man's face. He looked like the sort of man who chased storms for a living, and was now merely enjoying the calm before the next.
He stepped on deck and lit his pipe, studying the horizon.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 31, 2015 17:35:23 GMT -5
Maester Galloway walks over to Martin. He's a short, crude, probably exiled learned man in his late forties, having forged links in areas as diverse and useful as ghostly phenomena, botany, and the history of Sarnor. His first love, though, are the tales of the haunted demesnes of the First Men, and Witch Isle is his third sight of supposedly spooky designs. "Can't believe I'm champing at the bit to see a place named after a sorceress who self immolated," he remarked casually.
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Jul 31, 2015 17:58:16 GMT -5
Martin puffed his pipe a moment, studying the maester. "There are many sooch places lined along the Wall. Ah'm not even sure Witch Isle is any more frightenin' than the Dreadfort or the 'Ell'olt. The evil that men do lives on after them, doncha know?" He looked at him. "What's a maester 'eadin' to Witch Isle for? Has the allure of books grown so underwhelmin', one feels the draw of adventure like a wee laddie at his father's hip? I read Arhmaester Mulcressen once traveled the roads o' the Ghiscari Empire in search of ancient wisdom, before being knifed and left in a ditch." He puffed his pipe a moment. "'Is own work was pretty shite, to be fair. No man shood use the word 'irregardless' and 'regardless' so frequently without kenning they mean the same bloody thing."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 31, 2015 18:06:47 GMT -5
"The Wall," he laughed. "I have no desire to drown myself in the expanses of the frozen barrier of water. I'm here to speak for the dead," he claimed. "They speak to me in their tongue and I translate their desires for the living."
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Jul 31, 2015 18:14:00 GMT -5
The Night's Watch man frowned. "Ah've seen things that suggest otherwise, but Ah presume you mean figuratively."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 31, 2015 18:54:01 GMT -5
"No, no," he insisted. "I wish to see what caused Witch Isle to become so spooky," he said, clutching his book to his chest. "I will record what they say and then make a book."
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Jul 31, 2015 21:38:45 GMT -5
Martin snuffed his pipe and set it away. "'Spooky.' As Ah said, we have sooch places at the Wall. We labor oonder the shadow of the Night's King, as Witch Isle labors oonder Arwen Oopcliff." He looked aside to Raskin, who was now playing dice with a few of his men, before continuing in a lower voice. "Maester, Ah trust geography was amongst your many stoodies. If you had to find Witch Isle, could you? Ah mean, could you place your finger on a map as clearly as one could find the Sisters or King's Landing itself?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Aug 1, 2015 11:59:14 GMT -5
"I could," he said, "If...you know, I felt the need to. What's important is that the cap'n can find it. Because it's definitely on every map of Westeros."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Aug 5, 2015 13:45:46 GMT -5
Ser Cailan stood by the rail, praying audibly but quietly to the Warrior. At prayer he had a dreamy face that seemed at odds with his muscular form and the sword at his side. But he often lose himself in his prayers, tied up as they were with the happier times of his past, before the remnants of the Faith Militant scattered.
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Aug 5, 2015 16:47:01 GMT -5
"Can 'e? 'twould appear these men are more practiced in prayin' than sailin'." He stroked his auburn beard in thought. "This feels more like a crusade than an expedition." "LAND HO!!"[/b] Martin looked ahead, squinting. There was certainly something in the mist. Several somethings. Most appeared to be nothing more than mountains peaking out of the water, but in the center was something larger, more distinct. Eventually, the mist swept enough aside to reveal a rich forest atop the isle, vibrant and green. Witch Isle was not so desolate as the tales said. Atop the island, on its a peak, was the castle, which seemed to take up half the island. "The Red Keep." Martin murmured. "Still looks well-maintained. Ah can see Terrence's interest. It'd make a splendid summer 'ome... A few heirs 'idden away per'aps."
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Post by Lyonel on Aug 5, 2015 17:00:37 GMT -5
Leo hated ships, he had spent the whole trip looming over the rails and throwing up into the sea. The sight of land was enough to make him cheer up a little bit.
"After this... I swear I'm never taking another ..." He muttered under his breath, before being interrupted by his lunch coming up again.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Aug 5, 2015 17:23:02 GMT -5
Cailan finally looked up at the castle. He made a gesture and and then murmured "Gods be good. It's a beauty."
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Aug 5, 2015 18:23:26 GMT -5
Raskin moved to the poop deck and bellowed out, "All right, gather on deck! That's Witch Isle alright, but we'll need to sail to the other side before we can anchor and land. The weather here is treacherous, and you didn't pay me to maroon you, so the Blue Rose will keep a few nights. But listen well! I mark my right and intent to leave at any moment, regardless of who is or is not aboard my vessel. I have no interest in being boarded by heathens, and every day here is a day my men and I are not being paid. First sign of ill tidings, either from above or that fucking island, I will lift anchor and make for White Harbor. No lack of refugees looking to flee the Old North these days, and pay their way. Any questions?"
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Post by Raven Umber on Aug 5, 2015 20:03:26 GMT -5
Staring at the castle, Mina sighed,"It is beautiful, all the way out here."
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Post by Malthazar Nazaryl on Aug 6, 2015 3:40:45 GMT -5
Martin spoke up. "What about food? Place 'asn't been restocked in twenty years."
The seaman replied, "Fish, boyo. Merling King provides good eating. Also, if the wildlings and pirates haven't done them in, the farms should still be running. Six or seven years ago, they were still trading with passersby."
Martin, who was no man's boyo, stroked his beard. "Still not sure what bandits be doin' here. Ah was under the impression that Witch Isle was better noon (known) fer its witches than anythin'."
Raskin shrugged. "Should've pondered that before boarding ship, crow."
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